


Unworthy

by capricious_Bastard



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Couldn't think of a different title half way through writing it, M/M, Tentative Title, Unfinished
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 01:03:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20349787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capricious_Bastard/pseuds/capricious_Bastard
Summary: Cătălin is heart broken? Anatas is piece of shit, no surprise. I think I might have a chance; maybe. I don't know.





	Unworthy

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the spacing is intentional.
> 
> Maybe I'll finish this someday, but for now, it'll be like this.

The night air chilled his skin, sweat cooling off from his body and clothes. Muffled booms and vibrations shaking the air in the surprisingly hushed silence of the streets. 

A sigh leaves him, his lips curled in its drunkenness, his vision swimming yet still coherent. 

“Do want me to get you some water?” The other man asked, carefully placing him down to sit on the sidewalk as he caught his awareness. 

“Nah”, he replied, nonchalant despite the aching dizziness he feels, “I'm fine. Just need to take a bit of a breather.” 

“Okay.” The other hummed out, taking a seat beside him, pulling and hugging his knees against his chest. 

A minute or two of quiet passes them by, regaining a bit of his sobriety. “What are you doing here, by the way? I thought you said you'd be babysitting?” 

“I was, sort of?” Light brown eyebrows furrowed in thought, red eyes glancing to and fro from him, “Well, An'stas said that you were out, and Luca slept earlier than I expected. Then An'stas offered to look after him because he didn't want to come and get your, quote-unquote, 'sorry-drunk ass'. Long story short, here I am.” He ended with a little grin, his canine peeking through between his lips. 

“Uh-huh…” The still, albeit slightly, intoxicated man mumbled. He ran a hand through his hair, the cold breeze touching his scalp, “How'd you find me here?” 

“Had to ask Heracles. Said that you'd be, somewhere, here.”

“Doesn't really answer my question, but a'ight.”

Silence prevails once again, a couple of people walking by them, talking and laughing to each other mixed with the subdued music in the club he was just in. 

Strangely, despite the neon lights, the smoke in the air, the liveliness of the area, the stars above are still visible. Or at least he thought so against his swaying vision. 

“Sorry”, he murmured out, closing his eyes and lifting his head up as if putting it against the wind for it to touch his heated skin, “Need a moment to sober up then we can go.”

“Take your time. It's fine.” The Romanian replied, a bit despondent. 

_ That's weird _ , he thought,  _ didn't notice that a little while ago.  _

“What happened?” 

“Huh?” 

“Something happened.” He pressed on, “Want to talk about it?” He said as he opened his eyes, his hazel gaze meeting with the other's scarlet hues. 

The brunette scoffed, trying his best to pull on a smile, but only ended up with a half-ajar mouth. He raised a brow, questioningly, waiting for the Romanian to speak. 

“I think”, the brunette started, “An'stas is going out with someone.” 

“Hm”, he hummed. 

“I sort of don't have proof, but he's been so… distant, maybe? I think I'm just imagining things.”

“Hm.” He hummed again. 

“What do you think, Ilija?”

The Serbian scratched the back of his head, clicking his tongue involuntarily, before he spoke. “You might be right.”  _ He's been going out with some chick from a different department _ . “Can't say for sure since talking to him makes me want to puke on his face, but he does seem… ”  _ A lot more giddy.  _ “Absent minded.” 

“Oh…” 

“Yeah. Oh.” 

He glanced at the brunette’s face, catching something quite unmistakable; pain. Hurt. Heart break. 

He watched as the male beside him breathed in a shaky breath, then looked up, his eyes glassy against the neon lights, lips pursed together, hands clenching each other, shoulders tensed. 

Carefully, he scooted closer, taking the jacket he wore off and quietly placed them on the Romanian's shoulders then pulled him closer. Their head leaning against one another in the cold night breeze, buzzed teenagers walking and chattering about were merely white noise within their sphere. 

He could feel the other's body sagging against his, shoulders hunching, head lowering. Wordlessly, he let the other hide into the crook of his neck, a hand coming up and gripping onto his sweat-dried shirt until his knuckles were white. 

There were no tears, if there were, he would have felt it, instead, the brunette trembled within his hold, shaky inhales and exhales going by his ear. 

He felt compelled to say something but ultimately kept quiet; he had nothing to say, anyway. 

The night continued on, and they stayed still until the first signs of morning appeared in the dark sky to which they stood, the Romanian's eyes red with no tears, lips forced in a tiny smile, brows furrowed in pain, eyes reflecting heart ache. 

They walked hand in hand, with the shorter male pressing against his shoulder and clutching his jacket with his free hand. 

No goodbyes were said, just waves of the hand, and backs turned. 

It was around 4 in the morning when he got back to his shared dorm room. A bit exhausted, but mostly pissed. 

The bed parallel to his completely empty. Some time on his way back, he got a text from the Romanian saying how he sent Anastas home. Clearly, 'home' is different for the Bulgarian. 

_ Figures, that asshole.  _

He closed his eyes in frustration, sitting down on the edge of his bed before plopping down. One too many thoughts ran through his mind but the first priority that his body took was slumber. 

Waking up to the sound of a blaring alarm about an hour later wasn't what he planned nor wanted to do. But at the same time, he didn't want to ruin his routine, and begrudgingly sat up, his teeth grinding in his half-awakened self. 

He decided to look around the room to see if his roommate got back but was only met with untouched bedsheets and cold air. 

_ What a way to start the day _ , he told himself, rolling his eyes at the other's absence. 

_ Fucking idiot couldn't see what was already in front of him. _

His steps were heavy, and nothing about his posture said anything welcoming. If anything, he was beyond annoyed at Anastas' actions. 

The latter wasn't an idiot, he was perceptive as hell if he wanted to be, yet the Serbian couldn't fathom how he'd shove Cătălin aside for someone else.  _ Nice job running away, shitface.  _

But, the world continued turning, time kept running, and the day played out as always. He shared his morning class with the Romanian brunette, skipped for half an hour in class with Heracles, smoked before lunch, and shared a lesson with  _ Mr. Shitface _ himself. 

It wasn't fun. Hell, every other lesson he has with the Bulgarian wasn't fun, and this day out of all days were making him itch with the urge to punch the Bulgarian's life away. He wasn't going to do it during class though. 

“What the fuck?!” Green eyes blearily stared at him, a red mark growing on his left cheek. “What was that for?!” 

“That”, he spoke, as if spitting the word out, “Was for Cătălin.” 

Then, the expression on the other's face contorted into that of understanding, and apologetic. 

“... I was planning…” He sighed, running his hands through his hair. 

“Plan's fucking over, asshat.” The Serbian spoke, harsh. “Stop running away and fucking tell him, shit, he nearly cried for  _ you _ .  _ You!  _ Of all people! Căt had to fall for a jerk like you.” Green hues glared at him, his mouth opening in retort, but he turned. “Don't want to hear whatever bullshit you want to say. Say it to  _ his _ face, not mine.” And walked away. 

Although he managed to land a punch, the satisfaction didn't run through his veins like he wanted, if anything, he wanted to land more than just one punch but he knew all too well that if the brunette saw them, he'd run over to Anastas' side and fuss over him as if nothing even happened, as if he wasn’t even in pain. And he didn't want to see the underlying hurt in the Romanian's gaze, so he held back. 

_ Maybe I shouldn't have.  _

“You look incredibly angry today.” Heracles said, maybe a bit sluggish for his own liking right now. 

“Yeah”, he murmured instead, hitting his head against the table. 

The former didn't say anything else after that, having fallen asleep quietly. He desperately wished he had a lecture to attend just to get his mind off of the idea of Anastas running away again. 

Feeling around his bag, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one after placing the stick between his lips, irritatedly blowing out the smoke into the atmosphere.

When he and the brunette met up later that day by the entrance, he felt slightly lighter upon seeing the lack of sadness on the latter's face. No puffy red eyes nor hunched shoulders. Just a pair of bright eyes and a toothy smile. 

“Did you wait long?” The latter asked, each step he took seeming as if he's bouncing. 

“No, let's go.”

They walked, leisurely, the afternoon sun lighting their way. The Romanian seemed happier than when he last saw him earlier in the day, the dejection that was once masking his face now completely gone. And he wanted to assume that everything was okay when the brunette turned around, running back to campus grounds. 

“Where're you going?” He ran after him. 

“I forgot my notebook!” The lilt on his voice was panicked and winded. 

“You can get it tomorrow!” 

“I have a quiz tomorrow!” 

_ Shit _ . The reason why he purposefully planned on taking the Romanian home as soon as possible was because he knew that Anastas was still around somewhere, and the last thing he wanted was to have Cătălin see him. “Wait up!” He said as he rounded the corner, spotting the distant figure of the brunette entering the building. Quickly, he glanced around, spotting no familiar faces and sprinted into the building. 

_ So far so good _ . 

“Found it!” Cătălin's voice echoed in the near-empty hall, with only his footsteps echoing. 

“Great!” He panted, stopping by the entrance of the room, “Let's go.” He wheezed out, Cătălin gave him an apologetic smile in return. As they were walking out of the building, however, a familiar figure entered his peripheral view, unfortunately, he wasn't the only one who saw it. 

Cătălin's once bouncy attitude halted, his expression fell and his face contorted into confusion, hurt, and hesitation. It didn't get better as they continued approaching the exit. 

_ Sorrow, heart ache, confusion, frustration _ mixed into one shocked expression. 

“... Why…” The brunette whispered, scarlet hues seemingly unable to tear his gaze away. Hands clutching onto the strap of his bag.

“Hey”, he called out, and immediately, the shorter's eyes are on him, “Let's go around.”

“Okay…” Cătălin quietly answered back. 

He reached out a hand for the latter to take, and did, their fingers twined together as he led the way out of the building. 

They stopped by an ice cream parlor, not the ideal place for him to pull out a cigarette stick and smoke, but somewhat ideal to try and lift the latter's spirits up.

It wasn't successful, though. All Cătălin could do was take small spoonfuls of his ice cream, staring down at the cold dessert in front of him. “It's going to melt, you know”. 

Cătălin didn't respond. 

“Want to bring some home for Luca?”

Still nothing but silence. 

He breathed out, folding his arms on the table and laying his head down against it, hazel hues peering up at despondent red ones. “Don't be sad anymore. Please? Everything's going to be okay.” 

Tears burst out of his downcast gaze, falling onto the sweet dessert. “Hey”, he called out, reaching over to touch him, “Hey, your tears are going to make the ice cream salty, you know.” He said, jokingly, a small smile on his lips but the brunette merely closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, his shoulders drooping and trembling.

“I feel so stupid. Why am I so stupid.” His words were muffled, however, between them, it was louder than the beating echoes of his heart. Gently, he took hold of the Romanian’s wrists, stroking the back of his hands with his thumbs.

“That’s not true.”

“But it is!” Cătălin cried out, “I’m so stupid but I kept hoping that maybe…” He hiccupped.

For a split moment, he managed to pull the brunette’s hands away from his face, seeing his tear-streak tinted cheeks and puffy eyes made his chest ache.

He stood, hands still holding onto Cătălin’s wrists and moved around the table to the brunette’s side, pulling him against his body as the Romanian cried.

The walk home was solemn, slow, and depressing to say the least.

The Romanian kept his gaze down at the ground, his head low and his expression filled with aching hurt. He didn’t try comforting the brunette anymore, he didn’t know what else to say other than the whole spiel of how the green-eyed Bulgarian is  _ an air-headed, irredeemable idiot _ .

He didn’t want to dig it deeper into the brunette’s mind of any thoughts or ideas relating the Bulgarian.

He stopped by the gates; swirling black thin metal in 18th century fashion.  _ Fitting _ . He nudged the Romanian beside him, sniffling as he raised his head. “This is your stop”, he spoke softly, watching the brunette stare blankly at the gate of his house. “Cătălin..?”

“I don’t want to go home yet…” He said in a pout. But he let go, their fingers untwining as he stepped closer toward the gate. “Thanks for walking me, Ilija.”

“No problem.” He shrugged, putting his hands in the pocket of his hoodie because it’s suddenly so cold, he wondered, in the back of his mind, as to why. He stood there, watching the latter open the gate and enter, closing it behind him. As Cătălin turned to lock the gate, their gazes met for a second, tiny smiles being exchanged in the silence before he turned around and walked in the direction of his home.

Slowly, he raised a hand, cold fingers in the air, and quietly waved before turning around himself then left.

The walk home was filled with boiling rage, if he could, he’d set the Bulgarian’s belongings on fire but that would mean potentially spreading the fire unto the whole room, and he didn’t want to get his stuff burned, nor his room.  _ I could always throw them out then set them on fire _ . But that would make the smoke rise much quicker into the open air, and pollute the air.

_ Sad _ . He thought, closing the door behind him.

Immediately, he took his hoodie off and threw it over his shoulder as he walked in.

“Came here to repent?” He said, snidely, brow raised at the other man’s presence. 

Anastas didn’t say anything, just continued on with putting his attention on the screen of his phone, green eyes darting ever so quickly in his direction.

He didn’t say anything, throwing his stuff on the surface of his bed, ruining the tucked sheets and neatly arranged pillows before diving face first onto the mattress himself. Minutes passed by with his face buried against the bed, eyes closed and sleep just within reach when it snaps from the small creak of the door and the little  _ click _ of it closing.

He turned to face the bed parallel to his, finding it empty. 

_ Little bitch’s up to something again. _

But he ultimately pushed his curiosity away and buried his head back onto the mattress.

His slumber was once again interrupted with the sharp ringing of his phone. Hazy light brown eyes blearily looked around, his half-asleep self trying to solve the equation as to where the noise is coming from. 

After a few seconds of fumbling around, he manages to fish the device out from his bag; still loud and active and bright. 

He glances at the person shown on his screen and answers. “Hey?” 

“... Can you come over?” 

“Yeah”, he mumbled, quickly dragging himself away from the bed, grabbing his hoodie, “Yeah, I can.” He continued, scrambling on his way to the door. The soft sound of the keys jingling plays in the air as he jogs toward the parking lot, anxiousness rising up from the pit of his stomach. His mind replaying the Romanian's voice, the way it cracked by the end, the soft underlying sadness it held. 

_ I have to hurry _ . 

He exhaled, taking his helmet off as he parked the vehicle by the gate, gazing at the open lights within the house. Hurriedly, he brought out his phone, calling the brunette to tell him he's outside. A minute later, the dark wooden door opens and light filters out from the inside, phone still pressed against his ear as he ran up to the gate, quickly unlocking it before wrapping the Serbian in his arms. 

“Woah… Hey”, he whispered, gently encircling his own arms around the shorter male. “It's okay, it's okay.” He said in a hushed volume, rubbing the brunette's back in solace. 

The latter just sniffed in response, taking in shaky breaths, his hold on the former growing tighter as if pulling him as close as he could. 

A moment passes, the night air cooling but eventually, the brunette pulled away, his cheeks pink and his eyes puffier than before, the corners red and swollen. He reaches a hand out, stroking the Romanian's tear-stained cheek with the back of his hand, empathy surfacing from his eyes to his expression. 

“I'm okay.” The latter murmured, showing him a smile. Small and broken, but a smile nonetheless. 

“Okay.”

“Sorry for calling you suddenly…” 

“It's fine”, he replied, quietly and slowly, delicately brushing his fingers across the other's skin before tucking a lock of light brown hair behind his ear, cupping his face. They stared at each other, soft hazels looking down at vulnerable scarlets. 

Time felt as if it stood still, their noses brushing against each other as their breaths mixed, lips touched. 

Red hues looked at him, wide and surprised, mouth agape as he stared at the taller man's eyes as if searching for something. “You should go home, Ilija, it's getting late.” 

“Uh”, he mumbled, “Yeah, yeah, I should.” He took a step back, his hand moving away from the Romanian's skin, falling to his side. “I'll see you”, his tone is hesitant, confused, looking for something just like the brunette. 

Cătălin hugged himself, leaning against the bars of the gate, “Be careful on your way home, okay?” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

Cătălin stepped back inside, closing the gate while he threw his leg over the seat, starting the engine. He gave one last look at the brunette standing on the other side of the gate, showing him a quick smile. It wasn't reciprocated, though. Instead, Cătălin waved his hand in good bye and turned around. 

A sharp pang hit his chest; it ached. 

_ Ouch. _

He should have gone home. He found himself sitting on a barstool and trying to ignore the vibrating  _ boom _ of the music, instead. 

_ Bottom's up. _

When morning came, he was more than his usual 'buzzed', he was smashed, slumped over the seat of his motorcycle as he tried to focus on the screen of his phone to check the time. 

The sky was already turning into lighter shades of blue and dark shades of orange, yellow, and red. 

_ Red. It's such a pretty colour. _

He blinked, squinting at the surface of his device, trying his best to keep his attention and swimming gaze down on the interface of his phone. It didn't work though, because he found himself shielding his eyes away from the bright sun with his arm, laying on his motorcycle, surprisingly able to stay balanced in his intoxicated state. 

He didn't like the fact that managed to attend his lectures half-way through the day, but it was either that or attend his classes on time but with a pounding headache. The jabs and stiffness of his body didn't help either. 

_ Should have gone home.  _

“Hey, took notes for you.” The Greek told him as he took a seat beside him, sliding a piece of paper filled to the brim with notes. 

“Thanks”, he replied quietly, pulling out his notebook from his bag, and immediately started writing down. 

“Did you shower?” 

“Yeah, why?” 

“You still smell.”

“Don't remind me…” 

“Wild night?” 

“Something like that.” 

Heracles hummed, putting his focus on the professor rattling in the front of the room, leaning his head against his hand while the other smoothly and diligently wrote down nearly word for word he spoke. 

The Serbian groaned, laying his head on his bag, breathing out a too-relieved sigh. 

His head tumbled around, switching from side to side, before he exhaled in frustration, pulling his phone out of his pocket. 

_ Nothing, huh.  _

He planned on messaging the brunette but held back, thinking that perhaps Cătălin would text him, brushing everything off, saying how he was probably moved by the moment. 

But nothing came. And now, he's having doubts. It's clear that the Romanian is avoiding him, why wouldn't he, anyway. 

_ Stupid. Stupid.  _

He breathed in, and typed.

_ Empty again, huh. What a fucking whore.  _

He clicked his tongue, throwing his bag across the room and u to his bed as he made his way into the small bathroom there. He stripped, and walked under cold running water, leaning his head on the tiles as he reran everything that happened the night prior and proceeded to beat himself for his idiocy. 

_ It was a sensitive time, why did I do that?  _

And he can't help but think just how beautiful the Romanian looked in front of him, with his flushed cheeks and pink lips. Granted, he didn't like the fact that the brunette was crying just a few minutes prior, he still looked incredible. It made him want. 

He shouldn't have wanted.

_ That's my downfall _ . 

When he stepped out of the bath, black hair laid against the pillow, back turned to him, blankets pulled up to his shoulders, the soft breathing of sleep. 

Rolling his eyes at the Bulgarian, he made his way to his side of the room, leisurely putting his clothes on, catching the blinking LED of his phone in the corner of his eye. 

Suddenly, he felt his stomach churn, his blood running cold as the thought of 'what if' ran through his mind. He swallowed, grabbing the device off the mattress. He hesitated, staring at the black screen for a moment. 

_ Fuck it.  _

_ 'It's okay. I'm sorry for overreacting last night.'  _

His heart skipped, a smile wanting to make his lips curl in elation, but instead, he sat down, staring at the words, carefully processing them. However, the relief he felt seemed to overpower everything and he couldn't help but smile despite himself.

He slept better than any other night for once. 

The next several days went by as usual, although their contact was limited to texts and the occasional late night phone calls, he still felt better than ever before. And he understood the distance that the Romanian placed between them. It was better for them to be apart for the time being if it meant Cătălin finding solace and untangling the confusion that he placed there himself. 

The kiss between them didn't help, he knew that, so he also decided to keep the distance between them to faraway voices and words on the screen, and Cătălin only helped in maintaining that distance. 

Despite that though, he felt closer to the brunette than ever before. Their messages full of quips and young teenage bullshit but he was content with that. 

Anastas grew ever farther and further though. He didn't like admitting it but he wanted to know what was going through the Bulgarian's head, where he runs off to during the nights, why he comes back during the day, why he seems so…  _ Confused _ .

He didn't like prying, and especially when it concerned the green-eyed loner. But when he came home with a duffel bag sitting on top of the bed parallel to his, he grew more than just curious. 

“Oh…” The other male murmured out, water still dripping from his hair. “Hey.” 

“Got somewhere to go?” 

“Sort of.” 

“How long?” 

“Just a few days, really.” 

“Where to?” 

“Girlfriend's place.” 

“Got plans?” 

“Just staying over. Nothing more.”

He turned, fully facing the other man. 

Anastas groaned, taking a step back, leaning on his right leg for support as he held onto his nose. Green eyes met with brown, before everything was black once again. Then another, and another. 

“Been wanting to do that for more than a week now.” 

“I figured.” He said, holding onto his broken nose, using his other hand to catch dripping blood. “Better now?” 

“Hundred percent.” 

“All right…” He quietly replied, making his back to the bathroom. “So”, he started, “Căt, huh?” 

“Yes, Cătălin.” 

“Guess it worked out for you in the end, then.” 

_ Not unless he gets over you. _

“Sure.” He placed his bag down on the floor, took his jacket and shirt off then laid down on his bed.

“He said he finds you cute.” 

“What?” 

“We talk occasionally. Have been for a few days.” 

“Repeat what you said.”

“We talk-” 

“Not that, shit head.” 

“You mean”, he said as he cocked a brow, “The one where he finds you cute?” A teasing lilt on the end of his words as he paused whatever he's doing to his face to peer out of the bathroom and look at his roommate. “Not kidding, you can check my phone if you want.” 

The Serbian snapped out his thoughts, shaking his head at the offer given to him. “No thanks.” 

Anastas walked out, a bandage on the bridge of his nose and tissues in his nostrils, red barely coating the white paper. He stopped by the edge of the Serbian's bed, looming over him.

He shrugged, closed his eyes, the numbing pain striking him right in his eye and skull. He laid still for a moment, staring at the ceiling with the pain blooming all over the left side of his head, becoming increasingly difficult to keep his left eye open. Anastas threw a cold compress onto his torso, and swiftly, he pressed it against his eye. 

Their silence envelops the room, the sound of Anastas' shuffling feet filling the noiselessness room. For a moment, he thought of saying something but ultimately thought against it, listening to the Bulgarian put his shoes on, grab his bag, and leave with a small  _ click _ . 

He's all alone now. The Bulgarian leaving to who knows where, Cătălin keeping his distance from him, and Heracles is probably laying on a bench somewhere, attracting stray cats to his side. 

For the time being, he's all alone. 

He doesn't know when but when he opened his eyes from sleep, he was welcomed by the silence and empty ceiling, a warm compress on his head that made the ache return. Slowly, he pushed himself up, the compress falling unto the bed by him, and took a look around the room. 

_ Thought it was a dream _ . 

He wasn't at all surprised yet at the same time he sort of was, with the event before seeming like a simple dream. He couldn't help it but maybe he had a chance, if the brunette would give it to him.

He stood, slightly wobbly on his feet but still had a semblance of balance, making his way toward the bathroom just to see the damage done to his face.

_ Not bad _ . 

He shrugged at his appearance and went back to bed, idling around with his phone, constantly switching between whatever app was open and his messenger. Repeatedly getting glimpses of the Romanian's name whenever he opened their exchanges before switching to a different app. The thought of wanting to talk with the brunette running around in circles in his head, while the memory of that certain night replayed like a broken record. 

Cătălin's soft lips, his warm skin, his deep gaze.

He groaned out, snuggling his entire face against the bed, his hand still clutching onto his phone.

_ I shouldn't _ . 

He'd seem desperate if he did. 

_ Maybe I should.  _

He might find out that Cătălin's waiting for him to make the first move.

_ I'm being stupid.  _

He was. Torturing himself like this produces nothing. Perhaps he really is desperate. Or just being stupid, he couldn't decide which one he was currently. 

But then he found himself having an internal war as he stood outside the Popescu household, lights off, gates locked, door closed. He bit his inner cheek, quietly hitting his forehead on the handlebar of his motorcycle, looking almost miserable as he gazed at the house in front of him. He took a glance at the time on his phone before taking a deep breath in as he pressed the Romanian's number and placed his phone by his ear. He listened to the ringing, anticipation crawling all over his body. 

“Hello?” 

“I'm outside your house.” 

“Wait, what?” 

“Let's go for a night drive.” And he hung up, swinging his leg over the seat, standing on both feet, he watched some of the lights turn on, he walked up to the gate, just in time for the brunette to swing the door open, running out with a shawl over his shoulders.

“What”, he started, standing just within reach, “What are you doing, do you know what time it is?” 

“I was bored.” 

“I-...” Cătălin then stopped, their eyes meeting for a brief moment, and turned, “Wait here.” He whispered, running back inside. 

His heart was pounding. What was he supposed to do next? He brought along an extra helmet but he didn't think that the red eyed brunette would actually go along with his spur-of-the-moment night drive. Inwardly, he groaned, he doesn't have anything planned at all. 

_ Thought for sure he was going to say 'no'.  _

Cătălin opened the door once again, turning the lights off before he took a step outside. He wore a leather jacket, with white ripped skinny jeans, he even had a hair clip to keep his bangs away from his face. 

_ That was fast _ . 

The Romanian walked up to the gate, the keys jingling as he proceeded to unlock it. 

“You look really cute.” 

Red eyes glanced up at him, “... Thanks.” He mumbled, hiding his face behind his hair. The lock clicked and soon Cătălin stood in front of him, pocketing away his keys when he locked the gate again. 

“You're not afraid of motorcycles, are you?” 

“I think they're cool.”

He breathed out in relief as he led the short distance to where he parked. Wordlessly, he walked ahead, taking the other helmet from the little hook and gave it to the brunette. Cătălin pursed his lips as he accepted the offered helmet, watching, a bit tentatively, the Serbian put his own helmet on. 

Then, he swung his leg over the vehicle, inserted the key and started the engine; it revved, he turned to look at the other male, who only looked back at him. 

“Here”, he mumbled, reaching to take the helmet and carefully strapped it to the latter's head. He then took the other's hand, and gently pulled him closer. The Romanian took the gesture, moved closer before throwing his leg over the seat, straddling the seat, his feet firmly stepping on the foot peg on either side. 

He turned, taking his hands and wrapping them around his waist, “You have to sit down and hold on firmly.”

“Okay”, he replied, hugging the Serbian tightly. He was hesitant but he managed to sit at a comfortable position. 

They drove off, the wind blowing between the spaces of their clothes and skin, the lights passing by and cars flying past as they segued through the night-life traffic. It felt… Different, the brunette thought to himself as wide scarlet eyes looked around in awe, seeing a different perspective from what he’s used to.

Who knew driving through the city on a motorcycle could be so, “Fun!” He shouted, laughing in glee as he pushed himself slightly off his seat, his hands tight around the Serbian as he shouted, his voice echoing inside his helmet, bright smile and a brighter mood.

Not soon after, they reached a quieter, darker, much more somber part just somewhere on the outskirts of the city.

They slowly reached a precipice, wooden fence broken and rotting yet still intact and buried in the ground.

He blinked, trying to focus his attention in his surroundings as Ilija came to a stop a couple of meters away from the old fence. As the Serbian kicked the stand, he immediately straightened, taking his helmet off as fast as he could, throwing his leg over the seat, shoving the helmet to the other male, jogging his way toward the fence.

“Wow…” He whispered, taking in a deep breath and letting it out, soft curls on his lips.

“Like it?”

“Mh-hm.”

The sound of the engine disappeared, and Ilija’s voice was all he can hear clearly.

“I like to come here whenever I feel…” He paused, hanging the helmets on the hook of his motorcycle, “Things.”

He giggled, “What ‘things’?”

The other shrugged, taking the spot beside the brunette.

Their eyes meet, the lights of the city beyond twinkling against the red shades of Cătălin’s eyes. He gulped, pursing his lips together, his eyes drawing down before looking back up to his eyes.


End file.
